


Screw Protocol (And Prince Jonathan)

by maccabird_23



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, M/M, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8996362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maccabird_23/pseuds/maccabird_23
Summary: This new assignment, though, this was different. Pretending to be the boyfriend of a well-mannered, law student, who also happened to be a prince, son of Queen Andrée Gilbert-Toews of Canada. Prince Jonathan Toews was definitely a puzzle.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bubblebutt_19](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Bubblebutt_19).



 

There wasn't really any precedent set for the things Patrick did but he had his own set of protocol that had kept him alive so far. Sure, any well-trained bodyguard could keep a close watch and private guard over the sons of multimillionaires and daughters of the politico, sub-famous but the difference was in the detail. He was paid to masquerade as a friend, escort or boyfriend. Always going unnoticed, pretty enough to just blend in with the scenery. Arm candy that was armed and dangerous, if you'd like.

  
Pat had once been a spy, seducing powerful leaders, criminal masterminds and everything in between. Putting his life at risk as a honeypot for ten years. Securing the most top secrets missions before hanging up his white tank top and settling for private security. Making sure that while the young and semi-important were out partying, doing lines of coke off each others’ asses, they were never assassinated with a lethal dose of polonium by the KGB or by some gun-toting, second amendment, loon who didn’t like their mommy’s new policy.  

 

This new assignment, though, this was different. Pretending to be the boyfriend of a well-mannered, law student, who also happened to be a prince, son of Queen Andrée Gilbert-Toews of Canada. Prince Jonathan Toews was definitely a puzzle. Crossing the border to America in secret, renting out an entire floor at the Ritz under an assumed identity and only traveling with his advisor, Brent. Patrick’s guard had been retained by Queen Andree. For some reason, she didn’t think that the 6’3, two hundred and thirty-pound Officer of International Security was enough to protect her son.

 

That's where Pat came in, and the first day he met with Jonny, after being taken aback by how handsome, tall and well-built the Prince was in real life, he asked him to be blunt. Patrick needed to know the real reason why he was going to the United States.

  
“Are you screwing some right-winger, politician’s son?”

  
“No.”

  
“Going to rehab for your 10k a week coke habit?”

  
“No.”

  
“Is this a fetishist thing? Do you like to be led around by a dog collar?”

  
“What does that even have to do with being in Chicago?”

  
“Is your mom sending you on some top secret mission to talk with the President of the United States about defeating ISIL?”

 

“Talk to Trump? I’d rather be led around by a dog collar?”

 

“So you are a fetishist!”

“It’s hockey. I’m going to Chicago for the playoffs.”

 

“What?” Patrick was confused, to say the least. He’d been expecting something grotesque and possibly morally void and to tell the truth, he was a little disappointed. “But what’s with all the ‘in secret’ shit?”

  
“I’m the Prince of Canada and everyone thinks my favorite team is the Maple Leafs. How do you think an entire country of hockey proud Canadians would react if they knew the truth?”

  
Maybe Patrick had been hit over the head one time too many in his career as a secret spy because he literally wasn’t getting it. Was it some weird Canadian thing? “Is this some weird Canadian thing?”

  
Jonathan sighed, long and almost painful sounding, his muscly chest puffing out quite nicely as he looked to the sky like some higher power could help him. He looked back at Patrick, dark brown eyes zeroed in with a heat that Pat had only experienced with the most cunning of foes. “I’m a Blackhawks fan. If Canada knows their Prince is a fan of an American team they will literally riot in the streets.”

  
It took a beat, mostly because for all Patrick loved hockey the thought of people acting like giant, crybabies for your personal choice in favorite hockey team seemed fucking crazy. He was use to rolling with the punches, so he shrugged it off, offering his arm out to the prince. “For the next two weeks, I’ll be your boyfriend.” He smiled brightly as Jonny’s eyes narrowed. “You can call me Timothy.”

 

Patrick and Brent were sitting in the living room silently, awkwardly listening as Prince Jonathan put on his disguise for the night’s game. The Hawks were playing game one against the Oilers for the Western Conference Championship. The banging of drawers and suitcases echoed through the walls and out to the main room. Patrick lifted an eyebrow, asking Brent without saying.

 

Brent shook his head, “Don’t worry. He’ll be done soon. He’s just nervous. This is the first time he’s watched the Hawks live during the playoffs. Add to that the possibility of the camera picking up his face and having it splashed all over Hockey Night.” Brent sunk deeper into the couch, his own disguise being minimal: a Cubs hat over his wave of brown hair and a Keith jersey.

 

Patrick ran a hand through his own curls, feeling anxious as he went over the plan in his head. He was wearing a Panarin jersey and jeans, nothing that would draw attention to them. Patrick has rented a nondescript SUV that would get them to the UC and then they would blend into the crowd of fans.

 

Pat would stay close to Jonny, Brent a few steps behind them. Their seats were good but not front row, where the cameras would see them. If Jonny’s big, recognizable Canadian face somehow did wind up on screen then Patrick would go in for the kiss, hopefully covering Jonny’s face with his own. Also, Patrick passionately kissing Jonny was probably something the cameras didn’t want to linger on.

 

Pat stood as Jonny came out, freezing as he took in his ‘disguise.’ He was wearing a Blackhawks cap, a pair of sunglasses and what looked like a fake mustache, but actually resembled a caterpillar balancing itself out on Jonny’s top lip. “You have got to be fucking kidding me?”

 

“What,” Jonny asked, smoothing his fingers down the front of his Hossa jersey like wrinkles were the worst of his problems. Patrick walked up to his ‘boyfriend’, taking the glasses off his face and gesturing towards the mustache. “What’s wrong with my mustache?”

 

“It looks like a prop in a bad SNL sketch.” Patrick shook his head, poking the dark lenses out of the sunglasses and waited for Jonny to peel off his mustache. He placed the frames back on his face. “It’s called the Clark Kent effect. Put glasses on a hot guy’s face and he’s automatically unrecognizable.”

 

There was a smile playing on Jonny’s face as he flicked the mustache into the tissue bin. “You think I’m hot?”

 

Patrick felt his face flush, heat creeping down his chest but he returned the smile with his own grin, slowly running his fingers down Jonny’s jersey, pretending to smooth out the wrinkles. He played with the hem, thumbs grazing the warm skin between sweater and waistband, feeling Jonny’s breath catch in his chest at the contact. He didn’t spend ten years seducing world leaders just to get flustered by some prince in training. “I mean you’ll do. Our hotness levels can’t be too egregious. Or else no one would believe that I’m your boyfriend.”

 

Jonny licked his lips, inches away from Patrick’s face, words trying and failing to fall from his mouth. Pat felt himself leaning in, it was entirely unprofessional but if they were going to make this look real a little practice wouldn’t hurt.

 

A cough from the couch made them turn, Brent looking between Patrick and the prince, eyebrow quirked. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything but if I don’t we’re going to miss the first period. The reminder made Jonny surge back, fumbling for his coat and shoes on his way to the door.

 

Patrick shared a look with Brent, eyes narrowed. Brent shrugged, readying himself for the night. As he passed Patrick he lowered his voice. “I’m the prince’s advisor and not getting involved with an ex-spy might be the best advise I give him all year.”

 

Patrick felt something cold coil in his chest at the reminder. How many ill-advised love affairs had he let himself fall into? Enough to know that Brent was right. Jonny wouldn’t even be his first prince but there was something about him, in the way he looked and talked to Patrick, which made him different. The heat of his breath was still hot on Patrick’s face.

 

The first period was uneventful on the ice, most of the raucous coming from the crowd. The populace was split evenly, just as many blue and orange jerseys as there were red. When Canadians traveled they traveled well, it seemed. “They’re here for McDavid,” Jonny shouted into his ear. Patrick turned, eyebrow raised. He might love watching hockey but he was still just a dumb American, catching games between jobs and rooting for his home team, the Sabres. “He’s the next Crosby, maybe the next Gretzky and the future of hockey all rolled up in one pimply teen.”

 

Patrick laughed, looking at 97 as he flew across the ice, weaving through defensemen as if the world stood still for him. He took a shot and it went wide. If he’d waited, Pat knew, he could have caught Crawford, had a yawning cage to shoot at. Just like a teenager, always shooting too early. “He’s not that impressive. Eichel could have gotten the Sabres to the playoffs if it wasn’t for his injury.”

 

Jonny laughed around the lip of his beer as he took a sip, shaking his head. “Is Timmy a Buffalo boy then?” Jonny asked, almost like he knew the answer. Something inside Patrick lurched and he sat silent for a moment.

 

There was a reason why he hadn’t given his real name. Why the queen and even the service he worked for only knew him as Timothy Doe. Patrick belonged to him and him alone. His past and childhood were all he had left that separated him from the atrocious things he’d done as a spy and guard. He wouldn’t let anyone have it.

 

Brent seemed to sense that there was something more festering in Patrick’s silence, leaning over from the other side of Jonny. “You know, Jonny could’ve been McDavid.” The statement seemed to make Jonny sputter around his beer, trying to talk over Brent. “Don’t go acting shy. He went to North Dakota, was a Fight Sioux and everything. First line center. They thought he was going to go top three.”

 

Patrick watched Jonny’s reaction; wine spots rushing to his cheeks as he put his head down, a silent laugh escaping his lips. “What happened?” Patrick feigned ignorance but he already knew, Jonny’s portfolio snug in his suitcase back at the hotel. He wanted to hear it from Jonny though because paper never told the full story.

 

“Assassination attempt on an away game. It got me in the leg. The doctors said I could have played hockey after the physical therapy.” The ‘but’ went unsaid, Jonny taking another sip before turning to face Patrick. “I had to choose then. Continue putting my life at risk for the dreams of some six-year-old boy who wanted to be the next Joe Sakic. Or grow up and be the next Prince of Canada.”

 

Patrick opened his mouth but closed it immediately, some wise-ass quip dying in his mouth before he could get it out. He’d known the former, knew Jonny had an attempt made against his life. What Pat didn’t know was Jonny still had the chance to play hockey, pursue his dream but chose not to. Chose the responsibilities of being the next King of Canada instead of just laying them on his younger brother’s shoulders.

 

Patrick swallowed hard as the first period ended, ringing out across the stadium. He knew what that felt like. When your personal choices had a long, irreversible effect on thousands if not millions of others. Having to live with that each day. He let his arm wind around Jonny’s shoulders, not having words comforting enough that human contact could replace.

 

Jonny turned, their faces closer than before, nosing bumping. “It was a long time ago.” Pat wasn’t sure if those words were for Patrick or for Jonny himself. He started a bit as the hum of the crowd turned into cheers and jeers. Brent coughed loudly at their side, pointing to above center ice.

 

Patrick and Jonny looked up at the same time, catching their own faces displayed on the jumbotron. On instinct Patrick moved forward, covering Jonny’s face with his own. Jonny’s face was going to be on Hockey Night if Patrick didn’t act fast. “I think it’s time for Plan B, Timmy.” Jonny whispered, their mouth touching ever so slightly.

 

Jonny’s breath was hot against his lips, felt his nose graze his cheek. Patrick didn’t give it a second thought as he leaned his chin up, capturing Jonny’s mouth with his own. He tasted like cheap beer and soft-serve ice cream. His lips dry and mouth wet as Patrick asked for permission with his tongue. He licked his way inside Jonny’s mouth, both arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He felt Jonny’s hand cupping his face, keeping him still as he deepened the kiss.

 

They could have been kissing for an eternity, the second and third period coming and going without them noticing, so caught up in each other but in reality it was less than a minute. They separated, looking up and noticing another couple was on the kiss cam. Patrick sighed in relief. “Looks like we dodged a bullet there, metaphorically at least.”

 

They shared a grin, still refusing to separate completely, Jonny’s fingers still playing along his jaw and neck and Patrick’s arm still looped around his back. He knew he wasn’t being professional, should let go of Jonny before this went any further but as the brunette leaned down, Patrick couldn’t help but lean up.

 

“I wouldn’t talk so soon.” Brent stood, motioning to the end of the isle and Patrick looked in the same direction. There was a big, angry-looking motherfucker lumbering towards them, face red and beer outstretched, ready to throw.

 

“Fuck.” Patrick whispered, covering Jonny’s body with his own, as he felt Brent leap across three seats and tackle the drunken man. Patrick heard more than saw the security guards rushing towards them. Pat stood, still shielding Jonny as he guided him to the nearest exit, hand protecting his head. “I think it’s time to leave, prince.” This was definitely going to make Hockey Night in Canada.

 

Patrick had nearly gotten them out of the UC before a group of guards surrounded them. Patrick put himself in front of the prince, raising an eyebrow at the tailored suits and earpieces. They weren’t your run of the mill guards, more experienced, possibly ex-military. “Sir?” Patrick asked, nodding to who he guessed was the head of security.

 

The man nodded, looking behind Patrick, at Jonathan. “Prince Jonathan, Mr. Wirtz would like a word with you and your…” his eyes scanned over Patrick and Brent “entourage,” he finished with a smirk.

 

Patrick turned, watching Jonny’s posture change, and in that moment he was no longer looking at grad student, hockey fanatic, Jonny but at the future King of Canada, Prince Toews. Letting out a cough, he gestured towards the exit, looking past Patrick. “Lead the way.”

 

Patrick and Brent stood silently, on either side of Jonny, who sat, facing Rocky Wirtz from behind his big, wooden desk. Logically, Patrick knew there wasn’t an organized mob in Chicago, not anymore at least but Wirtz made him feel like he was dealing with a mob boss. A man who could pull all the strings, make thing start into motion without anyone the wiser.

 

Folding his arms along the desk he leaned in, a smile playing on his face. “Usually, Jonathan things don’t happen without me knowing it. Imagine my surprise when I’m watching my game on Hockey Night and see your face. Prince Jonathan, kissing his ‘boyfriend’ on my jumbotron…” the emphasis on Patrick disguise made it obvious that Wirtz already knew the truth. Patrick raised an eyebrow, surprised. “and then a fight breaking out over it.”

 

Jonathan didn’t look phased, leaning in and meeting Wirtz’s gaze. “The fight isn’t on us. We can’t help it if American fans aren’t as accepting as Canadian fans. And even if President Trump is bringing in a new wave of  intolerance I, the Prince of Canada or anyone else for that matter shouldn’t be afraid to cheer on the team they love with the person they love.”

 

The Hawks’ owner leaned back in his chair, an even bigger smile stretching along his face. “And I completely agree with you, Prince Jonathan.” There was a silence and as if Wirtz could actually manipulate the things around him, all their phones went off at once.

 

Patrick took his out, seeing that there was an email from the private security company he worked for and it was in red, a termination notice He was surprised by how little he felt about the news. Jobs like that came and went, and he’d probably be receiving tons of emails in the next day or two. Other forms, looking to hire for his specialized set of skills. He pocketed his phone, turning as Jonathan spoke.

 

“It’s from my mom. She said she’s handling the media in Canada.” Jonathan put his phone down, smirking as he looked at Brent. “Seems like most of Canada is more proud of my actions than upset that I’m a Hawks fan. But the Oilers winning game one probably helped.” Brent rolled his eyes, putting away his own phone. Jonny motioned curiously. “Who was that?”

 

Brent coughed, looking away. “Something private.” Brent turned away, cheeks turning red as he gestured towards Wirtz. “So what’s the plan for handling the American side of this?” There wasn’t really any question in whether Wirtz would help but more on how much he’d already put into motion.

 

“Well, as you can understand the Hawks do not tolerate this type of intolerance. The fan has been banned for life. The headlines are already up on most websites but there’s one headline we’re still working on.” Rocky gestured towards Jonny and Patrick. Jonathan sighed, turning to Patrick and giving him an almost apologetic look.

 

“Prince of Canada and boyfriend join morning skate?”

 

“That’s a start.”

 

“Prince of Canada and boyfriend skate with veterans?”

 

“That’ll be this weekend.”

 

“Prince of Canada and boyfriend stay for the duration of the Hawks’ playoffs?”

 

“That’s what we were hoping to hear, with interviews included.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Jonathan stood, shaking the shorter man’s hand. Patrick watched their hands meet and part, something coiling in his chest, not altogether unpleasant but just different. Patrick knew the protocol for being a spy, a honeypot, a mercenary and bodyguard. Patrick didn’t know the protocol for being someone’s boyfriend; he’d never had one of those.

 

He looked at Jonny as the older man got his bearings about him, putting his hand lightly on Patrick’s back and guided him to the door. As far as first boyfriends went, Patrick knew, he could do a whole hell-of-a-lot worst. “One more thing.” Wirtz stopped them before they could make their exit. “Keith was hoping that Mr. Seabrook, Seabs he asked, could remain for the duration of your stay, as well.”

 

Brent coughed into the silence, turning slightly to face the man. “Tell Duncs to call me and I’ll consider it.” Jonny raised an eyebrow, turning to look at Patrick. Pat sharing in the moment of surprise as he mouthed ‘DUNCS.’

 

“The men in here don’t accept that type of attitude. We stand by what the organization has done. We have the best fans in the world and welcome all their differences.” Duncan paused, wiping the sweat from his face. The reporters prodded, trying to speak over him. He stopped them with his hand. “Let me finish…” He looked directly into the camera, lights catching his face. “As a hockey player and a bisexual man I can guarantee that that type of hate won’t be tolerated here. Not in this locker room.” The buzzing of questions rose into a dim roar as Patrick shut off his phone. The video had gone up thirty minutes ago and already had a million views.

 

From the back seat, Patrick watched Jonny’s surprised face, contrasted by Brent’s stoic look as he drove. “Well, that’s a surprise. Right?”

 

Brent grunted, his phone going off again with a new message. It had been beeping for the last thirty minutes. “Not really.” Patrick and Jonny waited but the older man went mum. Patrick looked at Jonny imploringly but only received a shrug. Outside the hotel, parked underground Brent turned towards them, sighing. “It was a long time ago. Before he was married… and divorced.”

 

Jonny unbuckled his seatbelt, mumbling under his breath “I would hope so.” Brent shot him a glare as he exited the car. Patrick did a good job of minding his own damn business as they walked to their suite. He wasn’t one to judge other people’s private affairs, not with his own past.

 

He was still curious, watching how Brent reacted to the mention of Duncan Keith. How his whole posture changed, shoulder stiff but eyes gleaming. The man must have left a lasting mark on him, and Patrick was surprised by how much he cared. Worrying about Brent like he was a friend. Maybe he was. Patrick bit his lip as they entered the room, he had to reevaluate what Brent was because he definitely wasn’t just part of the job anymore.

 

They didn’t exchange any words, Brent taking out his phone and answering whoever had been calling since the car ride. “Have you literally lost your mind?” He gave Pat and Jonny a nod as he wandered into his own room, closing the door behind him. They could both hear the arguing from behind the door but chose to ignore it. Neither had to guess who it was anymore.

 

Patrick sat down, sagging against the couch and finally feeling how exhausted he was from the long night. He watched as Jonny went over to the bar, fixing something into two glasses. “On the rocks or with water?”

 

Patrick sighed, combing a hand through his curls as he watched Jonny. The long lines of his back, muscles coiling and stretching underneath his jersey. “Give it to me straight.” He laughed as Jonny turned slightly, arching an eyebrow and wiggling his butt in Patrick’s direction.

 

“Haven’t you been watching the news? ‘Giving it to you straight’ isn’t really something Prince Jonathan can do.” Jonathan sat beside him, taking a long gulp from his own drink before facing Patrick. Their sides pressed together, even though there was more than enough room on the couch. “It’s not really a secret. I’ve had boyfriends before but I’ve always been a pretty private person. Bringing dates isn’t really protocol for international affairs.”

 

Patrick smiled at the thought, resting his arm on the back of the couch, fingertips skimming the back of Jonny’s neck. He felt a little better knowing that they were both in no-man’s-land, uncertain of where they stood, a weird place between almost strangers and almost lovers. Patrick had been there before but he wanted this time to be different. He swallowed, raising his glass with resolve. This would be different. “Here’s to screwing protocol.”

 

Jonny smiled, his grin reaching his eyes as they clinked glasses. “To screwing protocol.” Patrick could feel the heat of Jonny’s hand as it rested on his thigh, warmth of the drink as it settled in his belly. Everything about Jonathan was so tentative but present, from his demeanor to his touch.

 

Patrick didn’t respond immediately, not really knowing what the next step would be. The spy or bodyguard in him would have complete control of this situation. Would already have Jonny a withering mess underneath him but without those facades Patrick, the boy from Buffalo, who use to braid his sister’s hair and have dance-offs, hesitated.

 

Jonny must have taken his hesitation for reluctance, moving his hand back to his own thigh. “Say no and I’ll understand. No to anything or everything and I’ll get it. I’ll get off this couch, go to my room, and call Wirtz and my mom. Tell them your not part of the deal. Tell them, ‘Timothy never agreed to anything and I won’t force this on him.’”

 

Patrick paused, thinking about the easy out, the freedom of anonymity that he’d relished for so long. But maybe it's not what he wanted anymore. He shook his head, watched Jonny’s face fall only for a moment before he fixed it, getting up and starting to walk away. Patrick stopped him, hand at his wrist as he guided him back. Maneuvering the taller man until his arms were wrapped around Patrick’s neck, his knees straddling either side of Patrick’s lap.

 

He brushed his nose against Jonny’s jaw, a ghost of a kiss lingering along his neck. “Timothy Doe didn’t agree to any of this but lucky for you Patrick Kane might be interested in getting to know you a bit better.”

 

Patrick could feel Jonny’s smile against his own cheek, felt the first tentative kiss at the side of his nose. “It’s nice to meet you, Patrick Kane. I’m Jonathan. I’m a Hawks fan and the future King of Canada.”

 

Patrick kissed along his jaw, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “I’m a Sabres fan and am between jobs right now. Just a Buffalo boy with three younger sisters and parents who I haven’t talked to in a long time.” Pat felt something clench in his gut, thinking about his family. “I should probably fix that…” He carded his hands through Jonathan’s hair, bringing him closer, and capturing his mouth with his own. “but that can wait until the morning.”

 

Jonny took a breath before deepening the kiss, searching Patrick’s mouth with tongue and teeth, nipping at his bottom lip. He wiggled his generous ass in Patrick’s lap, undulating his hips and pressing down onto Pat’s hardening cock. “Do you think dating a prince will soften the blow?” Patrick laughed, stroking Jonny mouth with his fingertips. The brunette kissed the tips of his fingers before taking two in his mouth. Patrick’s laughter turned into moans as Jonny sucked on his fingers, tongue licking at the sensitive skin at his knuckles.

 

“That’s what I was going to lead with actually. ‘Hey fam, so did you read the news this morning?’” Patrick said between grunts, slipping his fingers out of Jonny’s mouth with a slurp. Jonathan let out a surprised, bubbling laugh, mouth wet and red. Patrick couldn’t handle it anymore, latching his lips onto Jonny’s neck, fingers working to take off his pants.

 

Jonny helped and in only a few moments they were both naked, Jonny pushing Patrick down on the couch, seating himself back on Patrick’s lap. Their hard cocks rubbing between them, and Patrick thrust his hips, smearing the tip of his wet dick along Jonny’s abs. Jonny grunted, wrapping a large hand around both their cocks. His other hand cupping at the back of Patrick’s head, bringing his mouth to Jonny’s nipple. Patrick didn’t hesitate, latching his mouth to the pink nub and sucking.

 

Jonathan let out a whine as Patrick squeezed the taut flesh of his ass, fingers rubbing at the heat he found as he spread him open. He thrust his hips down, enveloping one of Patrick’s wet fingers inside his straining body. Jonny threw his head back; mouth working around a silent sob and Patrick caught it, licking into his mouth before adding another finger.

 

Patrick didn’t move his hand, letting Jonny take control, letting him set the pace and take his pleasure as he got off on Patrick’s fingers. Jonny jerked them both off, their cocks hot and wet between in his fingers and palm. Patrick thrust his hips, fucking Jonny’s hand, letting out curses, a growl stuck in his chest. “You’re so fucking tight, Jonny. So fucking good to me.”

 

Jonny let out a sob, licking at the sweat that beaded along Patrick’s neck, thrusting his cock into his own hand and fucking himself back down onto Patrick’s fingers. “Patrick, I’m close. Fucking move. Fuck me.” Patrick didn’t hesitate, screwing his fingers up into Jonny, rubbing the pads of his fingers inside his ass until Jonathan let out a broken moan.

 

“Say it again.”

 

“Fuck me.”

 

“No, my name. Say my name again.”

 

“Fuck me, Patrick. Patrick. Patrick. Patrick.”

 

His name became a curse or maybe a prayer in Jonny’s mouth, the brunette screaming it between sobs as he came between their chests. His cum warm as it dripped down Patrick’s chest, down his belly, making an even bigger mess between their cocks. Jonny sagged in his lap as Patrick slipped his fingers out of his ass, both hands now working to bring himself off.

 

Jonny watched Patrick under hooded eyes. Watched as he fucked his own hand, the other cupping his balls. Patrick moaned as Jonny brought his fingers down between them, stroking along the wet mess at Patrick’s thighs before bringing his fingers up to his lips and sucking them into his mouth.

 

Patrick closed his eyes, letting out a cry as Jonny’s mouth came crashing down onto his own. Jonny’s tongue fucking his mouth, letting him taste the mess they made, musky and sweet on Jonny’s lips. He came, thrusting once, twice, three times into his own hand.

 

They didn’t make it back to the bedroom that night, Jonny happy to use Patrick’s chest as a pillow. It wasn’t comfortable but Patrick was too bone tired to move. He laid his head on the arm of the couch, eyes closing as he stroked his fingers along Jonny’s naked back.

 

“Brent is in for a surprise when he leaves his room in the morning.”

 

“Brent has ears so I don’t think he’ll be that surprised.”

 

“You're ok with your advisor seeing you naked with your…”

 

“With my bodyguard?”

 

“Not anymore.”

 

“With my boyfriend?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“With my Patrick.”

 

“Yeah, I can do that. I can be that.”

 

“Good.”

 

Patrick felt Jonny’s breath even as he fell asleep against his chest. He ran his fingers through his hair, listening as he started to snore in his sleep. He laughed, that definitely wasn’t in the portfolio Patrick had on him. It wasn’t a deal breaker but just one of the many things Patrick had yet to discover about Jonny.

He felt like there would be many to come. Things Jonny would have to learn about him, too. Parts of his past Patrick hadn’t told many or anyone. It scared Patrick, the prospect of sharing himself so completely with someone. It was a good kind of scared though, the type that came when you wanted someone to be a part of your life. He’d never wanted that with anyone before but Jonny wasn’t just anyone. No, there really wasn’t really any protocol for Jonny and Patrick liked that.

 

 


End file.
